


What Once Was Lost

by leiascully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8283529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Scully remembered later the moment she’d fallen in love with Mulder.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: S1  
> A/N: Another old thing from the Google Drive, finished for my fic fest.  
> Disclaimer: _The X-Files_ and all related characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox Studios. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

Scully remembered later the moment she’d fallen in love with Mulder: it had been another unremarkable night sometime after her childish hero-worship crush had dissipated and a real, solid respect and admiration had replaced it. They had been on a stakeout, backup on a dull case for which she and Mulder had helped profile the killer. The late shift had been amusing for a while - they had picnicked on sandwiches she had brought and iced tea that Mulder picked up at a gas station. But after a while he fell asleep with his head on her shoulder and Scully had only NPR for company. She was listening to a long lovely run of Bach when Mulder murmured in his sleep, pushed his face against her neck, and wormed his arm around her waist.

She had kept her body consciously still, aware of how little sleep he generally got and how improper this would look if the next shift showed up early. In the rearview mirror she could see the way the streetlight’s glare played over his face, which was partially hidden in the shadow of her hair. He sighed, shifting a little, and the warmth of his breath puffed over her shirt collar to settle in the hollows of her collarbones. She felt her lips curve into a gentle smile and something clicked inside her, like a quick double pulse of her heart. His face in reflection held such a look of repose that she felt tenderness well up in her for her sardonic, trust-no-one partner who at the end of the day trusted her, so relaxed as his eyelashes tickled her neck that he looked like a little boy who had forgotten to go home one night. Not as lost as usual, though, not the gawky, hollow-eyed youngster that was Mulder’s usual metamorphosis, just a sweet boy who had found that home could be unexpectedly near.

With the tenderness there was a fierceness too, the strong urge to protect. She wanted to destroy the people who had hurt him over the years. Twined into the fierceness there was desire, making her achingly conscious of the texture of his stubble against her throat, the heat of his breath, the weight of his arm across her lap. What shocked her was the intensity of the wild mélange of emotions and the certainly that some crucial frontier had been crossed and in some way she was lost. She was lost; he was lost; together they were finding their own path through the dark woods, through the unmapped edges of existence.

She woke him before the next shift showed up, trailing her fingers through his dark hair.

“Huh?” he said, pushing his face further into her hair before he sat up. His arm dragged at her waist as he moved. It would be easy, she thought, to follow his arm, to lean against the breadth of his chest. 

“Shift’s almost over,” she said.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes and reaching for his iced tea.

She shrugged. “Just one more unexplained mystery to add to your list, Mulder.” 

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I needed it.”

“You’re welcome,” she said softly, her heart sending out its warning again, a church bell ringing in the hall of her ribs. Beware, it might be saying, but the sound was so sweet. 

The relief agents knocked on the window. She and Mulder heaved themselves out of the car and were replaced. They went home, separately, to their own homes, to their own beds, and she almost didn’t think of the warm bulk of him resting against her as she fell asleep. Almost.


End file.
